


Ya Like Jazz?

by marie_deneuve



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve/pseuds/marie_deneuve
Summary: In which Eliza is even more of a workaholic than Wonka is. Wonka intends to fix that, if just for one night.
Relationships: Willy Wonka/Original Character(s), Willy Wonka/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Ya Like Jazz?

**Author's Note:**

> A friend sent me an ask with a premise similar to this, and I got a little carried away. What else is new?
> 
> This is actually the first piece I've written in months (my previous Wonka fics were uploads of pre-existing work on my tumblr), and I'm really proud of how it turned out! It's longer than I intended, as most of my literary endeavors tend to be, but I'm quite happy with the finished product.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it as well!

Soothing saxophone accompanied by twinkling piano meanders through the walls of Wonka's private suite above the factory. The curtains are drawn, moonlight creeping inside and signifying the end of another busy, yet fruitful, day. 

Wonka is now fully committed to the arduous task of tiring himself out in the hopes of getting to sleep at a decent hour. Hat, cane, and overcoat discarded, he sways to the gentle music filtering through the room. Not a care in the world, save for not spilling the glass of chardonnay in his hand. 

Yes, he is on his way to a good night's sleep. Well, he would be, were his faithful-to-a-fault assistant not actively impeding him this time.

"Eliza!" Wonka sing-songs, all but sashaying over to where she is seated on his sofa, intense and unwavering gaze focused on her laptop screen. So determinedly does she pound away at the keys that he feels the need to check her ears for steam trickling out of them. Even the most advanced and complex machine can overheat—although, he now knows how she hates being compared to a machine.

"Yes?" she responds without looking up.

He notices that she has barely touched her own wine glass as he dances his way behind the sofa and peeks over. He bends down until his chin is nearly resting on her right shoulder and asks, "What on earth are you working on over here?"

"I am allocating funds to the appropriate accounts for this week's shipment of ingredients," she answers somewhat curtly, completely unfazed by the sound of his voice so close to her.

Wonka tilts his head. "Hm? We normally do that on Fridays, and today is Thursday. Certainly we didn't overproduce this week, did we?"

"No, we did not. I am simply getting a head start on tomorrow's agenda." 

The chocolatier frowns. The entire time, Eliza never ceases her typing, a harsh and incessant tapping as her manicured nails make contact with the keys. It clashes hideously with the lilting tone of the saxophone in the background. He thinks he will never get to sleep at this rate.

Straightening his back and crossing over so that he's standing in front of her, he takes a prolonged sip of his drink. "Oh, Lizzie, you silly girl!" he playfully chides her. "Starting tomorrow's work when we haven't even finished today's!" He chuckles lightly.

His assistant is not as amused as he is. The color drains from her already pale face. Finally looking up from her laptop, she stammers out, "H-have I missed something?"

"Oh, yes, something very important…" He nods grimly. Gesturing around the spacious living area, he adds, "And you've left me to do it all on my own!"

Eliza blinks. "Willy, you're dancing to Kenny G and drinking your second glass of chardonnay…"

"Precisely! And you're melting those pretty little eyeballs right out of your head by staring at that gosh darn screen all night!" Wonka quips. Downing the rest of his drink, he sets his empty glass on the coffee table before extending a gloved hand to her. Mildly, he says, "Thursday isn't over yet, my dear lady. Leave Friday's work for Friday, okay?"

She is staring at his hand sheepishly, but she does at least close the laptop and set it beside her on the sofa cushion. "I am...not a very skilled dancer."

Rolling his eyes, he sighs. "That doesn't matter a bit. I'll be leading, of course."

She hesitates a moment longer before letting out a low breath. "...I will try." Gingerly placing her hand in his, she stands. 

Before he even realizes what he's doing, he gives her a delicate squeeze, noting how warm she is, even through the leather material of his gloves. Glancing down to where their hands are joined, he notices just how small her hands are—they're so tiny! How does she get so much work done with such ridiculously tiny hands?

They look soft as well. How would it feel if he weren't wearing his gloves at all? So soft, so smooth…

_ Oh, for goodness sake, what are you doing?  _ he chastises himself inwardly.

"Willy?" Eliza asks, snapping him out of his trance. Her voice is uncertain, her eyebrows drawn with genuine concern. "Are you all right? You haven't had too much to drink, have you?"

_ That's what I'm wondering myself _ , he thinks. Aloud, he says, "Fit as a fiddle!" He laughs, and it sounds strained even to his own ears. Hastily, he changes the subject. "I was just thinking…that you recognized Kenny G is playing right now. I thought jazz was too chaotic for you?"

Eliza's eyes widen and she flushes, reacting as though she has been caught in an insidious lie. "I...have since given it a second chance," she admits, shuffling in place uncomfortably. "It is...more agreeable than I previously gave it credit for."

"Well, wouldn't you know it!" Wonka teases, shaking his head in exaggerated wonder. "We'll make a free spirit of you yet."

Hands still connected, he leads her to the center of the floor. There, they spend the next several minutes swaying and twirling together in tandem with the graceful notes fluttering around them. 

Eliza is stiff at first, but relaxes gradually. The whole experience is something surreal—seeing her uninhibited, smiling freely, unguarded. And even more surreal that he feels the same way.

Wonka goes to bed exhausted that night, yet he does not sleep a wink. With his eyes wide open, he dreams of small, soft hands and gentle smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos, and tell me your thoughts in the comments below!
> 
> P.S. I get up to plenty more Wonka-related shenanigans on my tumblr! Follow me at https://fudgemallows.tumblr.com/


End file.
